The Darkness Will Find You
by Maxiekat
Summary: It's the night before Halloween, and Billy's fed up with the little kid mischief night pranks and, at thirteen, he's ready to scare up some real action.One Shot. COMPLETE


Note: I don't own _Death Sentence_. This was written for a story prompt challenge we had over at Garrett Minds. The prompt was "Billy on Mischief Night" and this is what I came up with.

**The Darkness Will Find You**

The jack-o-lantern grinned wickedly at Billy as he kicked its face in.

"This is fucking lame," he said as he shook the slimy innards off his sneaker.

"You got a better idea?" Bodie was spray painting some badly spelled slang across a white fence, not even bothering to do it discreetly. No cops were bothering to patrol that night, either too scared of what they were going to find or figuring it was easier just to let all the hoodlums kill each other and then they come around in the morning and clean the place up.

"Anything fucking beats this little kid, pansy shit." Billy spread his arms, taking in the whole middle class neighborhood he and Bodie had trekked to that night. They had to seek out the pumpkins and pointless decorations to fuckup – no one on their side of a sewer gave a fuck about decorating because no one wasted their money on shit like that. Where they came from money went to two things – booze and drugs. Lucky for his pop, drugs usually won out. "Let's scare up some real action."

"I dunno …" Bodie started, shifting from one foot to the other, glancing down at the little brat sitting on the curb at his feet. Billy's kid brother, Joe, was like a five-year-old noose strung around his neck, following him every goddamn place he went, getting in trouble and threatening the rep he was working damn hard to build. At thirteen, Billy was at that make it or break it point in his short life – one wrong step and he goes from future leader to future follower in the blink of an eye. He would just as soon slit his own wrists as follow the orders of some punkass piece of shit. He had a hard enough time not beating the shit out of his father when he barked his orders and threw his weight around – one day he swore he'd put that man in his place.

Joe was sitting there, digging a stick into the crushed pieces of sidewalk littering the road, oblivious to the conversation taking place directly above him. Kid lived in his head and Billy worried that one day that would cost him. Couldn't let one second of hesitation overcome you because if you did, that meant you were dead. BAM! Fuck you and all that shit. You don't get second chances; you were fucking lucky if you got one. He was sick of worrying about the kid. Tired of missing out on the real action because Joe was attached to his fucking hip and might see something that would scar him and screw him up, give him nightmares, make him wet the bed – well, that kind of stuff would do the damn kid some good. Ain't no reason why he shouldn't know the score, five or not. Sesame Street only got you so far.

Billy growled low in his throat. "Who fucking cares? Kid knows to stay outta the way. Let's scare up B-Street or somethin'."

Bodie groaned at the suggestion – he hated hanging around the older gangs, especially at night. Billy was impatient to get his territory in place and a gun in his hands. Bodie was fine with cruising along, playing video games, sneaking liquor from his parents and stealing cigarettes from convenience stores. That shit was for kids, and Billy never felt like a kid – watching his dad beat his mom half to death when he was four took care of that.

"Grow a set of balls," Billy said and Joe laughed. Maybe the kid was paying attention after all. "Let's see what really happens in this shithole of a town. Guaranfuckingtee you it ain't smashing pumpkins and throwing toilet paper into some old hag's tree."

XxXxXxXx

B-Street wasn't hard to find. They liked to gather under the railroad trestles, huddled around the lit trashcans as they made deals for coke and sold their whores to the highest bidder. Their leader was a guy named James – a little guy who you wouldn't look twice at on the street, but he carried a wicked looking knife that was used for gutting fish. He bragged about the guys he'd gutted with it. Billy didn't know whether to believe him or not, but he couldn't help but notice the dried blood on the blade the one time James let him hold it.

"Hey, guys, looks like we got us some trick-or-treaters," James said, taking a drag of the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. A tattooed broad was hanging on his arm and James nodded toward her. "You want a treat, Billy-kid? You want her to take you behind the car over there and relieve you of your virginity? Make a man outta you?"

The other guys laughed and Billy felt his cheeks grow hot. He wanted to spit out that he didn't need any help with that – his stepmonster's sixteen year old slut of a daughter had taken care of that a few months ago, but he held his tongue. They didn't give a shit about that anymore than he had cared that she cried afterward.

A car pulled up, chewing up the gravel as it came to a sudden stop. The doors opened and two guys came out, popped the trunk and spilled a dark object on the ground. Billy didn't have to look twice to know it was a body. The body whimpered and Billy realized he was still alive – poor sonofabitch.

James walked over and surveyed the situation. "Told you I wouldn't take no for an answer." He kicked out and the guy on the ground heaved a scream that died behind the gag shoved in his mouth. "You ain't leavin' here alive, you know that? But I'm gonna take every cent you owe me out of your worthless hide first." He reached into the trunk and pulled out a crowbar, he raised it and then stopped, looking back at Billy and his two companions.

"Hey kid, you want to step up to the plate, so to speak?" The little man's eyes glinted in the firelight, dancing like a madman's. "Do this now, and I could find a place for you, show you the streets. You're young, but you show real promise."

James held out the weapon and Billy took it without hesitation. This is what he was hoping for – the chance to prove himself. He had no plans to stick with B-Street, he would leave them their part of town and their kind of junk and action. He would make his own territory, carve out his own piece of the streets. But he needed an in first.

He hefted the crowbar, testing the weight. His back to Bodie, he said, "take the kid and get outta here. I'll catch up with ya in a minute."

"Billy …"

"Now." He looked over his shoulder, his expression cold and blank. "I ain't gonna ask twice."

He heard Joe crying softly in the distance as he raised the crowbar and prepared to take his first swing.

"Happy Halloween," he growled.


End file.
